


Performance

by Fairleigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Dehumanization, F/F, Multi, POV Outsider, Pre-Canon, Public Sex, Tatooine Slave Culture, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: Gardulla the Hutt didn’t actually need the Twi’leks. What did a female-identified Hutt such as herself require of a matched pair of dancing girls? Bone-beings were weak and lacked physiological resiliency as a general matter, and female Twi’leks were below average among the the near-human species. They couldn’t even be used for serious manual labor. This meant that they were, in essence, pure decoration.
Relationships: Shmi Skywalker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	Performance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



Gardulla the Hutt didn’t actually need the Twi’leks. What did a female-identified Hutt such as herself require of a matched pair of dancing girls? Bone-beings were weak and lacked physiological resiliency as a general matter, and female Twi’leks were below average among the the near-human species. They couldn’t even be used for serious manual labor. This meant that they were, in essence, pure decoration.

But the decoration did have its purpose in Gardulla’s Mos Espa palace. It wouldn’t do not to keep up appearances at home, after all, not when the smallest sign of weakness was tantamount to a strobe-flasher invitational to be overthrown. Gardulla’s rivals for control of the cartel in this sector would move in like fangfishes for the swamp slaughter. And so, the Twi’lek dancing girls delivered their nightly performances without fail.

Which got quite boring after a while. Gardulla liked making them change it up on occasion.

“What’s your name, child?” Gardulla asked the kitchen slave currently refilling her graok cup.

“I’m called Shmi, Mistress,” the kitchen slave replied, eyes lowered, her ugly human limbs bent in an awkward curtsy.

“Use Shmi here,” Gardulla instructed the Twi’leks. “She should suffice.”

The courtiers and cronies cleared a space in front of Gardulla’s dais, and Shmi was ushered forward, meek as a mousetwitsy, one dancing girl on either arm. She looked confused, unsure — was she new to the service? Gardulla couldn’t recall when she’d last made a purchase of human slaves. But if this Shmi didn’t know what was about to happen to her, she must be either new … or hopelessly stupid.

She started to shriek when the dancing girls tore open her tunic and her leggings, exposing her nakedness, and kept right on shrieking and flailing until one of the pair silenced her with a kiss. After that, she seemed to calm down somewhat, and the crowd that had gathered to watch cheered mockingly while the Twi’leks’ four blue-skinned hands roved all over Shmi’s nut-brown body. They patted her head, stroked her throat, fondled her breasts, caressed her belly, twisted and carded the thatch of hair between her legs.

The Twi’leks shifted positions. One got behind Shmi, holding her upright by the waist, chin tucked between her neck and shoulder, licking and nipping at her collarbone. The other knelt down at Shmi’s feet, grasping her ankles first and then running her hands up the insides of her thighs. Fingering her open.

Gardulla’s cronies hooted with approval at Shmi’s involuntary whimper. Gardulla herself rolled her eyes and called for more graok.

The dancing girl at Shmi’s feet put her mouth on Shmi and began to suck upon her avidly. Shmi’s entire boned-body shuddered, from head to toe, and the girl which held her upright grunted as she threatened to collapse off her feet and braced herself more strongly. She murmured something inaudible into Shmi’s ear. Comfort or encouragement? Shmi moaned. It did not matter.

“Hurry it up!” Gardulla snapped. She was starting to think this was taking too long, and she was becoming impatient. She wanted to begin the after-graok dessert course. “I do believe I am tiring of this performance.”

The Twi’lek who held Shmi’s widened her eyes. She knew what Gardulla’s impatience, or worse, her wrath, could mean. And her partner increased the pace of her labors between Shmi’s legs, mouth working hard, almost her whole hand jammed up into Shmi’s squishy orifices.

When the inevitable happened, the dancing girls pulled away from Shmi at precisely the right moment, so that she stood alone, and her orgasm was on full display. Shmi stood there, muscles locked and twisted, an agony of unwilling ecstasy, as if she were frozen in carbonite. Now this was performance art. There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part the crowd had already lost interest. They too wanted dessert, it seemed.

“I want my dessert, and I want it now!” Gardulla roared, slapping her tail until the duracrete floor threatened to crack. Another of her kitchen slaves hastened to obey while the dancing girls helped Shmi to her feet, covered her nakedness, and ushered her carefully out of the throne room.


End file.
